Trump: Even Pardons Are Becoming Big Business
Presidential pardons, granted even by Trump's predecessors, sometimes controversially, but on a very limited basis, have now turned into a genuine business.
Rapper Boosie Badazz, born Torrence Ivy Hatch Jr., has sued lobbyists at JM Berkman & Associates. He wants back the $600,000 he paid them last year to secure a presidential pardon from President Donald Trump. Under the contract, the consultants had promised to obtain a pardon for his unlawful possession of a firearm. The pardon never came.
Amid recent international conflicts — the war with Iran, the raid in Venezuela and clashes with NATO — Trump and his family have been making billions thanks to the powers of the White House, through cryptocurrencies, rare earths, billion-dollar gifts from emirs and more. In Trump's world, Badazz is merely a bit player. However, his case highlights other signs of decay in American public life that have so far gone largely unnoticed: the business of presidential pardons. Trump's predecessors granted them too, sometimes controversially, but on a much more limited scale. Now, they have been turned into a genuine business, and Trump boasts about it. It is just another way to display his immense power and reward the loyalists who did his dirty work, from Rudy Giuliani and his former right-hand man Mark Meadows to lawyers involved in attempts to overturn election results, such as Sidney Powell.
Trump's pardons began on the very day of his second inauguration, a year and a half ago, when he freed all those convicted in connection with the storming of the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, and ended criminal proceedings against the 1,500 people involved in the attack — one of the darkest hours in American democracy. That story is well known. What is less known is the industry that has grown up around presidential pardons, with hundreds of lobbyists and law firms claiming that, for a price, they can get pardon requests directly to the president through personal connections. Trump has made things easier by cutting the Justice Department out of the process; everything is handled at the White House.
Take, for example, the pardon of Changpeng Zhao, founder of cryptocurrency giant Binance, who pleaded guilty to violating U.S. anti-money laundering laws. He was pardoned after striking a $2 billion deal with the president’s sons. Other cases have attracted less attention. Pardons have been granted to real estate developers who rigged bids in Texas, individuals convicted of financial fraud such as Trevor Milton, and major tax evaders, such as Paul Walczak, whose mother raised millions for the campaigns of Trump and his allies. So far, Trump has granted 166 individual pardons, and the professionals who have built a business around his pardon power promise many more. Now, Badazz is throwing a wrench into what had until now been a well-oiled machine.
Rapper Boosie Badazz, born Torrence Ivy Hatch Jr., has sued lobbyists at JM Berkman & Associates. He wants back the $600,000 he paid them last year to secure a presidential pardon from President Donald Trump. Under the contract, the consultants had promised to obtain a pardon for his unlawful possession of a firearm. The pardon never came.
Amid recent international conflicts — the war with Iran, the raid in Venezuela and clashes with NATO — Trump and his family have been making billions thanks to the powers of the White House, through cryptocurrencies, rare earths, billion-dollar gifts from emirs and more. In Trump's world, Badazz is merely a bit player. However, his case highlights other signs of decay in American public life that have so far gone largely unnoticed: the business of presidential pardons. Trump's predecessors granted them too, sometimes controversially, but on a much more limited scale. Now, they have been turned into a genuine business, and Trump boasts about it. It is just another way to display his immense power and reward the loyalists who did his dirty work, from Rudy Giuliani and his former right-hand man Mark Meadows to lawyers involved in attempts to overturn election results, such as Sidney Powell.
Trump's pardons began on the very day of his second inauguration, a year and a half ago, when he freed all those convicted in connection with the storming of the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, and ended criminal proceedings against the 1,500 people involved in the attack — one of the darkest hours in American democracy. That story is well known. What is less known is the industry that has grown up around presidential pardons, with hundreds of lobbyists and law firms claiming that, for a price, they can get pardon requests directly to the president through personal connections. Trump has made things easier by cutting the Justice Department out of the process; everything is handled at the White House.
Take, for example, the pardon of Changpeng Zhao, founder of cryptocurrency giant Binance, who pleaded guilty to violating U.S. anti-money laundering laws. He was pardoned after striking a $2 billion deal with the president’s sons. Other cases have attracted less attention. Pardons have been granted to real estate developers who rigged bids in Texas, individuals convicted of financial fraud such as Trevor Milton, and major tax evaders, such as Paul Walczak, whose mother raised millions for the campaigns of Trump and his allies. So far, Trump has granted 166 individual pardons, and the professionals who have built a business around his pardon power promise many more. Now, Badazz is throwing a wrench into what had until now been a well-oiled machine.
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